


In Warm Welcome

by Lunarium



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his death, Thorin attends his own funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rekall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rekall/gifts).



Their eyes glisten, iridescent, as their heads bow before their forms on the tombs of their own bodies, their mourners having long lined the other side. Thorin cleared his throat, knowing only his nephews would hear, gaining their attention. 

“Stand up straight,” he ordered solemnly. “We are still of Durin’s Folk and will behave properly.” 

Neither spoke, still coming to terms with their own deaths, but they obeyed. It had been incredibly painful for Thorin himself. He was aware of his own end, having spent it with a respectful friend, but he had believed and hoped at least Kíli would have survived. But both nephews were dead, and Thorin knew Dís would be devastated once she learned of the news. 

Yet the line of Durin, though broken, was not lost forever. The new leader, Dáin, stood proudly in a wine red robes, his red hair muted by the brilliant gold and onyx crown on his head.

“The king is dead!” came the cry just as Thorin let go of the world in his heart, but in that moment, also he met Dáin’s eyes and realized his cousin could see him. In the dark, Dáin’s eyes glittered with a poignancy, his normal mirth subdued by his friend and cousin’s passing. But they looked to one another and Thorin bowed, muttering a, “Thank you,” just as Balin cried out, “Long live the king!” and all the voices of the dwarves, and Bilbo Baggins, joined in claiming Dáin Ironfoot as their new leader. 

Though a spirit, Thorin thought he felt a tear run down one cheek, though he was smiling proudly of every dwarf in that moment. His people would do well from here. 

Thorin turned to his nephews. Fíli placed a hand over his heart and bowed, letting go his dream to one day follow in his uncle’s footsteps, and Kíli mimicked his brother’s actions, his passionate heart having resigned to his fate. 

Smiling kindly, Thorin joined between them, a hand on each nephew’s shoulder. “Let us go. The Halls of our Fathers await us, and we shall be received in warm welcome there.”


End file.
